


We started as strangers

by Kru



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Angst, Awesome Laura, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cultural References, Domestic Fluff, FBI Agent Derek, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Human Derek Hale, M/M, Older Stiles, Protective Derek, QAF references, Sterek Campaign, Student Stiles, Teen Wolf Pack Charity Project, Total, a little bit of, five times fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kru/pseuds/Kru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Stiles visits Derek and that one time he manages to stay there for the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We started as strangers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luainn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luainn/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [We started as strangers by Kru 【中文版】](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216474) by [justlikeit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeit/pseuds/justlikeit)



> I was given the prompt: something casual and domestic and five times. Well it supposed to be 1k but then the subject carried me away. Still, I have a feeling that nobody is going to cry about it ^^
> 
> Beted by truly amazing Ashe. She had done a tremendous job here. I still don' know how to thank her.

 

He opened the door carefully, fully aware that behind it he’d find a pile of letters, waiting to be collected like they had been every day for a week now. He still slipped on one just after he crossed the doorstep.

“Oh shit!” Words slipped out his mouth and he realized that he said it out loud. "Yeah, yeah! Scott, just chill out. It wasn't for you. I know it's not your fault, dude," he said impatiently, collecting the letters from the floor and looking at the shoe print he left on one of them.

"Why did the damn mailman decided to drop them all off at my place? Christ, the guy lives next door!" Stiles hissed into the phone, trying to hold it against his ear with his shoulder while he gathered the rest of the letters and took them to the living room with the rest of his stuff. He dropped everything on the kitchen-dying-computer-and-drafting table in the middle of the huge room and focused on what his friend was saying. 

"Stiles, maybe the guy is so scary that even the mailman doesn't want to bother him?" Scott said, as always trying to find any explanation or excuse for others people’s mistakes.

"Whatever, dude," Stiles huffed. He sat heavily on the bed and toed off his shoes. “I’ve had enough of this and the guy needs his mail delivered at some point. I can’t keep it forever. I’m giving it back to him, like today. He should be at home. He’s always at home on Friday nights which, impossible, I know… And don’t say I’m the same lame asshole who never goes out on Fridays!" Stiles breathed deeply, falling back on the soft mattress and piles of cushions “So, about this party you’re having in a couple of weeks.  I’ve got to pass.”

 "Man, Allison was so happy that she was going to see you," Scott whimpered through the phone. He actually fucking whimpered through the phone.

Stiles screamed internally. "Look, if I take these damn letters to Edward Cullen, I’ll probably end up being eaten, absorbed, or whatever this guy does to little boys who lurk outside his door. So no party for me, like ever! But that doesn't mean I can’t come for coffee or whatever Allison is making for dinner on Saturday."

"Yeah, like, you know… We miss you." Scott pulled another big gun and Stiles was reminded of everything he left at home when he went to college.

"Okay, I’m coming next weekend," Stiles decided, curling up on his bed and looking meaningfully around his huge but empty apartment. “Not for the party, for you two and for my dad." 

"I have no idea what is it with you and parties lately," Scott groaned. Stiles could hear him typing something in the background which meant he was keeping his girlfriend up to date with what was going on during their phone call. As Allison, Scott’s sweet better half, was usually the mastermind of their relationship, Scott’s next idea was definitely hers. "You know that at our age we should party like hell, like insane, like you have no idea! And man, you’re at college, at CalArts! In fucking LA! You need to take advantage of that!"

"Says the one attached to his girlfriend," Stiles muttered. At the same time he heard a movement in the hall and clink of the opening door lock. He rushed to the hall, taking the piles of letters and saying a rushed, "Bye Scott, you sound like my dad except for the swearing. I really need to go."

Stiles opened his door wide.  He was standing face to face with his infamous neighbor, who sure as hell looked even scarier than he did when Stiles saw his back in the viewfinder or what Stiles had heard of him from the others tenants. He was all dark and broad shouldered; maybe that’s why he seemed huge. He stayed at his doorstep to wait for Stiles’ reaction, a frown written all over his handsome face. Because like, yeah apart from being scary, the guy was seriously handsome and Stiles might feel even more frightened because of that.

"I-I heard your steps. I me-mean in the hall,” Stiles mumbled, knowing perfectly well he was staring at the guy and blinking to make sure that what he saw was real. "An-and I have something that belongs to you. I have your mail… That is-"

The guy’s eyes narrowed and the whole frowning thing became even more intense. "This is private stuff,” he said, finally seeing the letters.  He looked pissed off. "Where did you get that?"

"They’re addressed to Derek Hale," Stiles explained carefully, leaning against his apartment’s half-opened door when he saw the man was coming closer. "So before I give them to you I need to know if you’re him."

"Were you stealing them or what?" Derek growled, grabbing the letter out of Stiles’ hands.

"The mailman delivers them to my address," Stiles explained, pointing at his apartment behind him.

Derek looked quickly through the letters, checking on Stiles from time to time like he was making sure his stalker hadn’t run away.

"You’re not much of a talker, are you?"

Derek turned his gaze on Stiles and made his serious face again. Stiles was close enough to see Derek’s strange eyes. It was quiet unusual for such a dark and dangerous man to have such emotional eyes. It wasn’t even about their color, which by the way was amazing when paired with the afternoon light coming from Stiles’ apartment, but also the way shades of green and gold glittered every time Derek looked at him.

"Dude… Your eyes are like really nice," Stiles whispered.

Derek looked surprised, but didn’t comment on that. "I’ll tell Laura to send on my mail."

By the time Stiles said, "Yeah, sure. Not much of a problem for me," Derek was back in his apartment and Stiles was all alone on the hall, wondering what had just happened.

*

Stiles wasn't exactly sure how he found himself at Derek’s door the next Friday evening. He wasn't planning this… Well, to be honest, he planned the whole thing from the beginning, but as he came face to face with the door and stood prepared to knock, he wasn't sure if he should set his plan in motion.

Stiles had been thinking about this guy for a whole week. He knew that Derek was only available on Friday evenings since he came in or out at crazy hours when Stiles was still asleep or not at home. This evening was his only chance to make some contact, set up a connection and fire the bomb.

You could say that he had developed a little obsession with Derek Hale. Since Stiles saw him last, Derek had become a permanent fixture behind his closed eyes. He was there when Stiles fell asleep, when he tried to draw, and even brushed his teeth. Derek was there one time when Stiles took a shower and ran his hands a little bit too low, mixing his fast breath with the steam and sound of water as he came all over the tiles. And okay, that wasn't one time. That was a lot of times. Every one of these miserable accidents happened when Stiles brought forth the memory of Derek’s eyes.

“Just be causal” Stiles tried to convince himself as he knocked on the door.

It took few good minutes and some additional knocking before the door moved and he could see Derek frowning again, struck by the daylight coming from hall’s windows. His apartment was dark and quiet, his hair was a complete mess, his clothes looked slept in, and he had a cushions’ shape pressed into his cheek. Did Stiles mention the sexy, messy hair and tight tank top that so nicely ran over Derek’s perfect body? No? Yeah, they were sexy.

“I woke you up, didn’t I?” Stiles muttered, trying to sound sincere. His voice trembled anyway.

Derek scrutinized him slowly, and sighed. “It’s you. What do you want this time?” He sounded tired.

“The letters, they’re still coming,” Stiles explained, anticipating the question. “I have them at my plac-“

Stiles turned to indicate his apartment behind him. When Derek opened the door wider the wind blew through it and shut Stiles’ door.

“Crap!” Stiles shouted. “That wasn't planned.”

“I assume you don’t have keys?” Derek asked with disappointment.

Stiles only shrugged, trying to hide his emotion with an apologetic smile. “Man, sometimes it happens to the best of us.”

Derek rolled his eyes but he was already opening the door wider. “Come in. I’ll see what I can do about that.”

“What? Are you Neal Caffrey or something?”

“Definitely something. More like Peter,” Derek said and Stiles could swear that he saw a faint smile on Derek’s lips.

Derek closed the door and pressed some buttons near the frame. Huge curtains suddenly went up, letting the evening sun inside to reveal details of the apartment. Stiles had the same feeling when he entered to his apartment for the first time. It had the same air. He still wasn't sure how he afforded to keep it even though he worked his ass off, but Derek’s apartment probably cost even more.

It was three times bigger than Stiles’, with massive windows facing the west side of the town. Stiles could see the ocean. Even though his apartment was lighter with an interior of blues and whites, this seemed classier. Derek’s apartment was darker in colors, filled up with the scent of leather furniture, and had uncovered brick on the walls and wooden floors. There was also a staircase, a bit rusty, that climbed one of the walls and lead to a higher level.

“You want to take a picture?” Derek interrupted from where he was buried in one of the cabinets near the open kitchen.

“Come on! This is like a Batman’s place!”

“If this is your idea of starting conversation, drop it.” Derek finally stood and unfolded something on the kitchen counter. “Do you know what kind of lock you have?”

“A knob.” Stiles gave him the type without second of doubt. Derek’s brows flew up in surprise. “I study a Utility Designing,” Stiles explained. “Believe me, I know a lot about that shit.”

Derek nods with a quiet ‘aha’ and chooses one of the lock picks. “Don’t touch anything.”

“What? Wait!” Stiles catch Derek before he was able to move, pulling on his shirt’s sleeve. “If you are like Peter from White Collar does that men you’re from FBI?”

“Do you have anything illegal at your place?” Derek went back to his serious frown.

“No.” Stiles answered carefully. “If you find something, it’s not mine. Just so we’re clear about that.”

Derek sighed. For a moment he focused on the tight grip of Stiles’ hand and than he came back to Stiles’ face. “Do you mind? I want to open that damn door and go back to sleep.”

Stiles let him go, rising his hand in surrender. Now he had a chance to give the apartment a second look and he still was sure that it was a perfect Batman’s bachelor pad. On the other hand it didn't seem like Derek was this kind of guy who brought a lot of people home. Okay, he could fuck outside if he didn't want to desecrate his own apartment but then again, Derek looked kind of lonely and that somehow made Stiles want to get to know him better.

“I’ll make you a thank you dinner,” Stiles said as soon as Derek stood in the doorway again. “For opening my doors, I mean.”

“Whatever makes you happy and gets you to leave.” Derek gave him a fake smile.

“It would,” Stiles replied carefully.  His face lit up with contentment. “And I like FBI agents,” he added.

*

“Didn’t I say I was going to make you dinner?” Stiles welcomed Derek as he showed up at Derek’s place the next Friday evening.

Derek stood in the door for a long moment and scrutinized Stiles with his usual frown. He didn’t look freshly awake this time but then he looked kind of tired; his eyes were red like he hadn’t been able to sleep for a few good days.

“Well, are you going to let me in and give me a chance to pay you back?”

“You don’t have to pay me back,” Derek said carefully, sounding irritated.

If this was meant to scare Stiles off it didn’t work. Stiles was used to people being irritated around him at first. Everyone loved him eventually. If not, they weren’t worth his attention. Stiles just shrugged and then sniffed, interested, once he smelled a strange scent coming from Derek’s apartment.

“I think something is burning,” Stiles smirked, and looked inside to see smoke over the oven.

“Fuck, my food!” Derek growled, rushing to save his dinner 

Stiles took it as an invitation. He collected his shopping bags from the floor, and entered the apartment. He put everything on the kitchen counter, and stood behind Derek to look over his arm.

“Man… Spaghetti from a jar, really?” He smiled when Derek turned back to send him one of his the most serious dead glares.

“You think you can do better?” Derek asked, doubtful, but stepped aside with an inviting gesture. “Just remember I’m hungry as hell.”

“You’re not going to help me, are you?”

Derek even didn’t look at Stiles. He just fell onto the sofa, turned on the TV, and started flipping through the channels 

“You’re paying me back, remember?” Derek replied, leaning comfortably against the cushions.

Stiles sighed. He was unpacking his stuff when Derek stopped on Logo channel just in the time for Stiles to hear a familiar theme song.

“Queer as Folk reruns, seriously?” Stiles said, surprised and unable to bite his tongue. “I mean, I didn’t know this was on again.”

“You got a problem with that?” Derek lifted a bit from the couch to be able to see Stiles.

“Me? Are you kidding?” Stiles laughed nervously, concentrating on the food and not on Derek’s careful gaze. “I’m just surprised that you don’t have a problem with that.”

Derek smirked, fell heavily on the sofa again, and said nothing.

“But Queer as Folk? Man, even I’m not that obvious.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles heard after a long moment from behind the couch.

“You know, I’ve always thought of myself as equal opportunity,” he explained, chopping vegetables and listing carefully to Derek’s reactions. “I figured it out in high school, but then I got a serious crush on Lydia and that kept me from putting my philosophy into practice. I was going to in college, I even went to art school, but people are strange as shit here so... You know?”

“In other words, you’re still a virgin,” Derek said casually.

On the TV, Brian was fucking Justin, making painfully familiar noises. Stiles didn’t know if he was more turned on by that or by Derek asking him questions about his virginity. He should be embarrassed. He really should be covered in a blush as he tossed the vegetables in the pan and said quietly, “I prefer to think of it as not having been on anyone’s radar yet.”  

Derek didn’t respond. There was a long pause as Stiles finished making his famous pasta. It started to get darker outside and the apartment filled up with light from the street lights and the distant glow of the hiding sun. The kitchen was the only place where the light was turned on. Everywhere else the walls were illuminated by the light from the TV which wrapped the loft in the soft colors of the dusk. Stiles heard the music of ending tiles.

“I hate the second season,” Derek said suddenly.

Stiles startled. He had just been about to put the food on a plate, but now he had to collect some of the pasta from the counter. He had dropped it, scared at Derek’s sudden words. “Man, stop being a ninja! And yeah, the second season sucks. I love the third one though.”

“Why, because of the reunion? Are you that much of a romantic?” Derek snorted, rising from his place as he saw Stiles approaching him with plates of steaming food.

“A fancy apartment and no table?” he asked, sitting behind Derek on the couch and falling against the comfortable back with a contend sigh.  Stiles even went a step further and placed his feet on the low table in front of them. Derek looked at them for a moment then moved his annoyed gaze to Stiles.

“Okay, I’m taking them off!”

“Yeah, and promise me I wouldn’t end up with food-poisoning.” Derek smiled as he sniffed the plate one more time.

Stiles just rolled his eyes, but when he saw the smile on Derek’s face, he wasn’t even able to swallow his food. If Derek was handsome when he frowned, he was perfect when he smiled. The expression lightened up his eyes, instantly surrounding them with a net of small but cute wrinkles.

When Derek looked at Stiles again, his expression was intense. “It’s really good,” he said, but didn’t drop his look from Stiles’ face as he ate. “Maybe you should do this for a living and quit art?”

“Actually, I work at the diner,” Stiles confirmed, “but I’m too good at art to quit.”

“Does that make you Justin?” Derek smirked, putting his empty plate on the table and leaning against the back of the sofa. “You work at a diner, you’re the artistic type, and you like older guys. Plus, you’re a virgin.”

“Justin was only a virgin in the beginning, before he met Brian,” Stiles said matter-of-factly, and put his own plate down. “Does that make you Brian?”

Derek laughed. It was sudden, as if the apartment had not been used to the sound, but was now bursting with his low voice, vibrating even through Stiles. “You know they’re doing a marathon tonight?” Derek asked, still smiling.

“The whole second season?” Stiles manage to react.

“You up to it?”

“Yeah, why not?” Stiles agreed, knowning perfectly well he was already doomed.  

*

The sound of his phone receiving a text message woke Stiles up from his daydream. He’d been daydreaming for endless amounts of time for the past week. He could only think about one thing: the fact that last Friday he had fallen asleep at Derek’s apartment, on Derek’s sofa and on Derek himself. Yes. COMPLETELY PASSED OUT.

That wasn’t even the worst part because really, the whole sleeping together thing was kind of amazing and it was the kind of amazingness that Stiles had never quite had in his life before.

Stiles had woken up after a few good hours of sleep, squeezed between the back of the couch and Derek’s massive body. Derek’s warm arms were wrapped around Stiles’ waist and Stiles’ face was buried in the crook of Derek’s neck. Stiles wasn’t sure how they both managed to fit on the couch, but their bodies matched up perfectly. Even their legs were tangled together.  He had had a massive boner because like, yeah, who wouldn’t in these circumstances? The only problem was that he hadn’t known if Derek was enjoying or if he was just making a big fool of himself. Especially when he tried to free himself and accidentally rubbed against Derek’s hard muscles. A long moan had escaped Stiles’ lips, and Derek had woken up.

“Be still,” Derek had whispered, lightly touching Stiles’ skin with his hot, wet lips.

Stiles felt a shiver running down his spine and going straight to his thighs. And that had been enough. He had jumped up and managed to run from Derek’s arms with speed that surprised even Stiles. In the next second he had been out of Derek’s apartment, positive that the thought of Derek being into him was the lamest, stupidest, and most insane idea on the whole earth.

Stiles closed eyes slowly and dropped his head. He hit the tabletop with his forehead and thought about this fucking Derek fiasco over and over again. His phone beeped again and Stiles was forced to turn his attention to more prosaic problems like the fact that he had totally forgotten about going home this weekend. The text was probably from Lydia, who was supposed to get up with him about when he needed to pick her up so they could catch up back in Beacon Hills.

Stiles read the first message aloud: “You forgot some stuff at my place. Derek.” His mouth dropped open and his fingers rushed to open the second one. “Bring the third season with you, so we can watch tonight. Still Derek.” 

For a long moment Stiles just stared at the screen. He blinked and read the messages a few more times, his lips moving fast between his rushed breaths.  He wasn’t hallucinating; Derek was texting him.

Stiles stood up so quickly his chair fell over. He ran to the bathroom, brushed teeth at the speed of light and checked his reflection in the mirror. He tried to do something with his hair but it was a lost cause; his hair had a mind of its own. He changed into a tank top more appropriate for the LA heat than his regular layers, but still picked up his favorite, lucky, red plaid shirt before he rushed toward the door. That’s when he realized that something was missing. Stiles looked at his bare feet and then ran back in the room to grab his laptop bag. Shoes weren’t important. It took five too long minutes before he was ready, then he was standing at Derek’s door and knocking.

“Man, how did you know my phone number? Where did you get it? How did you get it?” Stiles burst with questions from the exact moment Derek opened the door.

“Did you take your Adderall today?” Derek asked concerned.

Stiles took a deep breath, and adjusted the hold on his laptop bag. This time he was the one frowning with suspicion as almost no one knew about his ADHD. “Yeah, too much energy, though.”

“That’s not new.” Derek grinned.

Stiles passed Derek in the entrance. He looked at him carefully and followed him to the kitchen. The apartment was washed in low light, but the night had been slowly taking possession of the sky.

Stiles shoved his bag on the counter, waiting for explanation. “I’m starting to get a little creeped out and I’m usually the one that makes people feel that way.  So please just tell me you’re not a serial killer or Edward Cullen like I thought before, and I’ll be able to pick Lydia up tomorrow so I can take her home. I need to text her back.”

Derek stood in the middle of the room. When he heard Lydia’s name, he froze halfway to the remote. “So the Lydia thing is still in motion?”

“Yeah, like I want to be a masochist. Of course it isn’t.” Stiles smirked, and unpacked his notebook. “She’s crazy and in love with Jackson. Like forever. And since we go to school in the same city she made me her GBF.”

“GBF? What’s that?” Derek’s brow rose, Stiles questioned the possibility that they had their own life.

“Gay Best Friend kind of thing,” he explained. “Now it’s my turn. About th-“

“I’m from FBI, remember?” Derek cut in before Stiles managed to ask the question. “I have access to different information and since you have been renting my sister’s apartment, I checked on you a couple months ago.”

“So you’ve known everything about me this whole time? Man, that’s creepy!”

“When Laura sees a pretty face she can be careless, so…”

“So you stalk your future neighbors?” Stiles interrupted, but then he realized, “You said pretty face?”

“Yeah, because this time…” Derek said, voice hushed.  He came back to the kitchen where Stiles was standing against the counter. Derek leaned against it too, near Stiles, and observed him for a moment before he got even closer, “I was just curious.”

“Why, because she told you I was some kind of freak?” Stiles managed to say carefully.

“No, because you told her you’ve never been kissed.” Derek murmured.

“Oh my god, I did tell her that!” Stiles groaned, and bit his lips with embarrassment as he felt the blush cover his face. “I definitely talk too much.”  

Derek nodded slowly. Stiles felt his hand that, moments ago had slipped on the cold marble of the counter, now reached for his arm. Derek touched him gently, just trying it out, and when Stiles didn’t make any sudden reaction, he drew his finger up to Stiles’ arm and placed it on the back of his neck. Derek’s fingertips stroked the soft skin there, and Stiles shivered even before the fingers slipped into the mess of his hair. A muttered moan escaped his mouth unwonted as Derek looked at Stiles with his usual intensity and closed the distance.

“I can’t believe,” he said quietly, hovering over Stiles, “that no one wanted to kiss those lips. You have the most ridiculous lips.”

Stiles opened his mouth, trying to find anything that could sound coherent and could bring his sanity back but Derek was too close to think clearly. He felt Derek’s hot breath and his strong body as he pressed Stiles hard against the counter then suddenly he felt Derek’s lips on his.

It wasn’t hard or imposing, but Derek wasn’t holding back either as his tongue licked Stiles slowly. When Stiles gasped with surprise and opened mouth, Derek was already inside him, tasting him with a murmur of pleasure. His hands instantly found a place on Stiles’ body, drawing him closer. He even started to think that he could definitely get used to this when Derek parted their lips and with a couple of soft kisses, he pulled back.

“Now, can we watch the damn show?” Derek whispered, smiling.

Stiles cleared his throat, breathing slowly and then dropped his forehead on Derek’s shoulder with a painful and sudden sigh. “Man, give me some time. It was my first.”

“And I hope not the last. ”Derek laughed softly and Stiles felt the way Derek’s body vibrated as he held Stiles close.

And yes, there was much more kissing. When they finally managed to put the DVD on and the sounds of Queer as Folk filled Derek’s apartment with loud music, they totally wrecked the sofa. There was lot of lips smashing, licking and soft biting going on, followed by endless touching. But that was it. Derek sent him home as soon as the third season finished. He woke Stiles up softly, and pressed his hot lips to Stiles’ ear to whisper that he needed to go home and sleep well before his long drive.

*

“So are you part of some elite FBI unit, then?” Stiles asked another question, played with Derek’s badge and read the details from his ID card.

He was seated on a barstool at Derek’s, waiting for dinner to be ready. Apparently Derek did know how to cook and had asked Stiles over. He also agreed on information exchange and gave Stiles his documents. They hadn’t seen each other for a whole week since Derek had been on night shift and Stiles had school and work all day. Derek also wasn’t big on calling or texting like Scott with Allison or Jackson with Lydia but Stiles couldn’t complain. Especially now after Derek had held him close, kissed him, and whispered, “So good to see you”.

“Yeah, our department is called the wolf pack,” Derek answered and turned from the dishwasher with clean plates in hands. “It has a special structure. We only work on severe cases and only as a pack, never alone.”

“And as commander, you’re the alpha wolf?”

Derek smiled and nodded. “You’re catching on fast.”

“My dad’s a sheriff, man. What did you expect?” Stiles pretended to be offended. “I have cop in my blood.”

“Is that so?” Derek crooked a brow and looked at Stiles for a long moment before he moved. He put the plate and cloth on the counter. Stiles watched as the fabric slid from the marble when Derek rounded the kitchen island to get close to him. He surrounded Stiles with his arms, and he leaned against Stiles ear, murmuring, “You can have a cop inside you too, if you want.”

“I’m shocked we’re from the same place,” Stiles managed to say before Derek caught his lips and kissed him, “because, like, really--I’m the normal one, and you seem like a total perv.  Who even made you like that?”

“My parents, as I can recall.” Derek laughed and pulled back from the kiss, still staying close to Stiles. “I think it might also be Laura’s fault. I’m sure she sent you those letters on purpose.”

Stiles’ mouth was wet and open, and with the next deep breath, he asked, “How come?”

“She’s afraid I’m becoming even weirder from being alone for so long,” Derek explained. “My father was a FBI agent too, and he got mixed up with some mafia shit.” He slowly stroked Stiles’ cheeks with his thumbs. “Long story short, the mafia caused an accident and my parents didn’t make it.  Laura has been taking care of me since then.”

“Sorry, I mean, that they’re gone,” Stiles whispered, dropping his gaze to his hands that now were clinched in Derek’s shirt. “I kind of know how that might feel.”

“I know. You don’t have to say anything,” Derek said with the same gentleness. 

“Is this why you didn’t kick me out when I came to make you dinner? Was I something like a pity fuck?”

Derek shook his head in disagreement. “You’re just persistent and I was really hungry… for you,” he murmured into Stiles’ lips when he found them again.

He licked inside Stiles, parting them smoothly. Derek’s arms wrapped around his waist, his fingers found their way in Stiles’ messy hair and pulled his head back to expose more soft skin. The kisses lead over Stiles’ cheek and stroked along his jaw line with hungry bites until he found a spot behind Stiles’ ear. When Derek nuzzled into the crook of Stiles’ neck, Stiles lost control and arched into Derek’s arms, whining quietly at the back of his throat, demanding for more.

Derek stopped at that, smiling as he murmured into Stiles’ ear. “You sharing so much with me make me want to take you upstairs.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Stiles chuckled.

“For making love.”

Stiles laughed louder and pulled back so he could see Derek’s face. “God, do people still say that?”

“That’s what you get when you deal with older guys,” Derek mocked him and stood up to reach for Stiles’ hand. “Scared to finally set your plan in motion?”

“No. Not at all.” Stiles answered without a second of hesitation and let Derek to lead him up the staircase. “Just… Take it slow,” he quoted his favorite line from Queer as Folk and let Derek push him back onto the bed.

This time he stayed at Derek’s for a whole night. Actually for the whole weekend.

 


End file.
